


Feel What I Feel

by BrainlessGenius



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Feelings, Logic | Logan Sanders Angst, Multi, One Shot, Original Character Death(s), Poor Logic | Logan Sanders, Prompt Fill, Sad Ending, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tumblr Prompt, You feel what your soumate feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:21:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26872078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrainlessGenius/pseuds/BrainlessGenius
Summary: Soulmate AU where you can feel your soulmate's/s' emotions. Logan wasn't really looking forward to experiencing foreign emotional sensations; but he didn't have a choice, did he?Fill for the prompt: Roman x Patton x Logan Soulmate AU; Logan angst
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 5
Kudos: 55





	Feel What I Feel

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompts are closed for now, folks. College is a life-sucking demon. Stay safe <3.

Logan was never really good at emotions; which was a dire disadvantage to have if one lived in the same world he lived in right now.

A world where you could feel your soulmates’ emotions.

It wasn’t every feeling, no. How problematic and chaotic would that be if he felt every passing burst of happiness and every negligible thread of anxiety? Logan didn’t even want to imagine. No, it was only the most intense ones. It was the crashing waves of bliss, the fiery burn of anger, and the sticky web of mourning that came as wrecking balls knocking the wind out of Logan with every foreign sensation.

He remembered the first time he picked up on an emotion born out of nowhere, during a middle school competition, of all things. He had just won the quiz bee, donning on the brightest smile an eleven-year old could muster as he clutched the golden medal in front of the small crowd of people gathered in the gym, around the make-shift stage. He was absolutely certain that he was feeling no less than ecstatic then, standing proudly still for his mother who was taking another picture just below the stage. 

Then he felt it.

A sudden, almost painful pang at his chest that hooked down the corners of his mouth, stole the air out of his lungs, pricked unexplainable tears at his ducts, and dropped a boulder on his body. He didn’t know what it was, only that it wasn’t him--wasn’t _his._ The first mark appeared on his left hand that same night-- a small, sky blue heart at the back of his palm on the fold of skin between his index finger and thumb.

His mother explained then what it was, just as excited as she was when he handed over the medal. But Logan couldn’t say the same for himself. He felt cheated, swindled of a sane, normal existence. Figuring out his own emotional spectrum was already a challenge that proved greater than every branch of mathematics and science combined; so adding yet another individual’s feelings into the mix did _not_ sound appealing at all.

Everyone was surprised when another mark, a golden crown, appeared on the back of Logan’s right hand a few years later, accompanied by an overwhelming feeling of euphoria that left him gasping, tearing up, and smiling wide as day. He hadn’t felt that much happiness in a while; and he recalled how much it pained him to be thrown into such an inappropriate sensation so quickly. 

He wouldn’t have minded the overflowing exhilaration drowning him; he just wished whoever his second soulmate was could have waited another day before going out and experiencing something so elating. Not that day. Not when Logan was grieving. Not when the whole world seemed to crumble at his feet and the skies grayed and sobbed in lament. 

Not when Logan’s father had just died.

He felt disgusting, really. Logan wanted nothing more than to saw off his ribcage and yank out his heart that was beating at such a mockingly gleeful rhythm when his head was playing nothing but the lowest dirges and elegies. 

Don’t get him wrong. He still _wanted_ to meet them; couldn’t think of anything else, in fact. But his reasons for wishing so were not because of the prospect of meeting the loves of his life, or the objects of his happiness; Logan wanted to meet them so it would _stop._ He wanted an end to this never-ending guessing game of “Whose Emotions Am I Feeling Today?”; a stop to the exhausting emotional charade.

He pieced together that eventually, those two found each other before they ever found him. It was obvious, really. Granted, there were a few… standout moments of indescribable negative emotions (he gave up trying to name it) coming off of one or both of them that got Logan gripping the edge of wherever he was seated in for weeks, but one day it just… halted.

And for Logan, whatever took its place was far worse. 

The moment it hit him became branded in his mind as a magnificently beautiful flower blooming out of his chest, twisting and choking his cardiac vessel in thorns. His two marks glowed bright for the slightest second, and the nauseatingly euphoric vines only twisted tighter around his heart.

It kept going from there. Logan was taunted by the sweet taste of honey on his tongue when he woke up alone in bed, the teasingly fragrant smell of lavender as he whiled away amidst the dusty scent of the faculty room, the flames of passion that scorched him in the coldest of winters, and the sickening blankets of _love_ that enveloped him when he rather have nothing against him.

He wasn’t even sure if he was angry, _furious_ at them for making him feel things that weren’t his to begin with; or if he was just jealous, _longing_ to feel the same things but from his own chest, and not from another’s eye. Sometimes Logan wondered if they felt him from their side, too. Did they feel his remorse? His envy? His scorn? Was Logan a curse upon them just as they were upon him? 

The blaring of car horns just outside his narrow apartment brought him back to the present.

He ran his thumb over the marks one more time before he set off to work. He had wasted enough time trotting through memory lane. He quickly grabbed his coat and scarf, completely forgetting about breakfast as he slipped on fingerless gloves and nabbed his briefcase, before he bolted through the door, locking it behind him. 

He walked through the same route he took every day, picking up pace as the seconds ticked by. He checked his watch for the fifth time in a row, cursing to himself as he watched the minute hand get closer and closer to twelve--

Then the same sweet taste, the same fragrant smell, the same foreign droppings of familiar yet ever so distant affection took over his senses once again--stronger than it ever was before, only seeming to get more and more intense as he crossed the street in a dazed flurry.

If Logan just looked before he took a step.

Even when the world turned black and excruciating pain knocked him out in one fell swoop down onto the slippery, frosted road, it was still their bond, their _love,_ that he could feel building up inside him, choking him with the thickness of its sugary syrup clogging up his throat.

“Oh my --. Mister? --er, can you hear me? -- you open yo-- eyes-- Roman, I don’t thi-- he can h--r us--”

“-- take him to the hospit--, Patton, right now. Mister, do -- hear us?”

Logan wasn’t hearing complete sentences, or anything else in the environment, for that matter. All he knew was that for some reason his marks were burning more painful than the rest of him; and that the overwhelming throes of love flooding his being stopped; with only pain, waves and waves of agony, drilling into him from everywhere and anywhere.

Logan tried to focus on his surroundings even just the tiniest fraction more. He heard sobbing, the names “Roman” and “Patton,” and something about soulmates and hospitals and blood. In his half-delirious state, it took a long while for him to register what all of this meant, exactly. Once he figured it out, Logan forced his eyelids open, no matter how heavy they were or how much his head and everything else ached and throbbed.

If only to see them, at least. Just once.

It hurt to open his eyes, and when he did, he saw two figures looming over him-- one clad in glasses, a light blue scarf, and a gray cardigan; and the other in a white, thicker coat and a strikingly red scarf around his neck.

So there they were, finally, in front of him for the first time. He finally found his soulmates. He caught a glimpse of his mark on their hands, a navy blue pen, as the two tried to maneuver him into a more comfortable position, which if they learned anything about first aid, they really should avoid doing. 

If he could, Logan would’ve scoffed at the absurdity of the moment, but the rusty taste of iron in his mouth prevented him from doing so. How fitting, that he was to meet his soulmates through misfortune just as they caused him nothing but that.

Logan was fully aware of the movements of their mouths and the deep pain and worry etched into their features, and he braced himself to feel the foreign sensations once again, but nothing came.

It was only pain, emptiness, soreness, silence, burning, peace, and even more pain; but it was _his._ It was far from the bittersweet nectarine bite he had memorized with every capillary of his heart. It wasn’t Patton’s, or Roman’s, or theirs. It was searing, agonizing, _harrowing,_ but it was _his._

“Thank you.”

He managed to force out one last smile, _his_ smile, as he forced the words out through filling lungs and a quaking voice. It was only right that he thanked them for this one, good thing, after all. 

With nothing but the sounds of his own mind, the screams of his own body, and the beating of his own heart, Logan’s eyes slipped closed.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope you're all doing okay! Every little support and kudos is eternally appreciated. Follow me on Tumblr [@nerdy-emo-royal-dad](https://nerdy-emo-royal-dad.tumblr.com/)!. Stay safe, fams! <3


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